I back away from the horse as her legs kick out and her eyes wander about its surroundings. Nancy stands herself up by sprouting a small branch from her flank, which has gone dark and decayed along with the rest of her body. Mushroom growths and detritus line her legs, her barrels. Worms peek out of the horse's nostrils.

  This is an abomination.

  “Nancy,” Saegor says. The horse looks at him, eyes setting stiff. “Kill Raiten.”

  “Saegor!” Pamela yells, apparently shocked by his actions.

  I’m not.

  The horse turns to me and starts charging my way, snorting some fury. I grimace. Of course I shouldn’t have trusted this man. This damn necromancer —

  I raise my hands in Eternal Spring and ready myself to flow against the beast when Saegor calls out another order.

  “Stop!” and Nancy goes still right in front of me, stuffing her legs into the ground to halt her charge.

  I look down the worm-leaking muzzle of the raging beast.

  Then, I look at Saegor. He smiles toothily. “What do you think? No cognition, no outside influence. The purest of slaves.”

  I can’t help but chuckle darkly. “Do what you want I guess.” I don’t know why I give him leeway now of all times, considering he just ordered his beast to kill me. Perhaps it's some part of me accepting the compromises I will have to make—the sacrifices I’ll have to abide by.

  Perhaps it's my guilt, telling me that, if I’m abandoning Dandy and the rest of Takemeadow for a while, why not abandon my morality? What’s one more thing to lose?

  After all, Masaru bloodied your mother. Dragged her from your home. Beat her.

  And that cannot go unpunished.

  “Great, then I’ll—” he stops, pausing for a moment.

  The ground begins to rumble.

  But, Nancy’s already emerged. Which means —

  A hole opens in the earth beneath the revived spirit horse. It sinks halfway into the ground, whinnying and shrieking before a large, wooden, great hammerhead shark spirit explodes out from the ground beneath, swallowing the horse nearly whole in one cavernous bite.

  Umbrahorn has arrived.

  He hoots as he soars into the air, slamming back to the ground and spraying muddy flecks all over the mancers.

  Saegor, Zyla, and her brother take defensive stances while Pamela backs away.

  Then, a voice calls out to us.

  “You are threatening my dog,” she says. I turn to find Sorina standing close to Pamela, dagger to Riddeck’s throat, anger coloring her eyes. “And only I’m allowed to do that.”

  Shit. I look at Riddeck’s bruised face. One of his eyes is purple with swelling.

  “I told you,” I say. “I told you she was still alive.”

  He sneers. “I noticed.”

  Sorina gives me a confused look. As if asking, ‘why in all the hells would you need to tell him about me?’

  Pamela, meanwhile, overcomes her initial confusion and calls for her guards.

  Immediately, we are surrounded by a troop of Catolicans.

  Great. Now I have to play mediator.

  What is it with Catolican’s and their misunderstandings? It's almost damn genetic.

  “Everyone,” I raise my hands out. “Calm down. I know these people.” And so do you, at least.

  “Raiten!” Sorina hisses. “What are you doing? Hop on Umbrahorn and let's get out of here—”

  “Sorina, please, put Riddeck down. And Umbrahorn, don’t think I don’t see you trying to inch your way towards the twins—stop.”

  Umbrahorn and Sorina look at each other. With a sigh, surprisingly, Umbrahorn complies first. Hesitantly, Sorina follows, releasing her dagger grip on Riddeck and pushing him forward.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He falls to his knees in front of Pamela. “I’m sorry my Queen, but —”

  Pamela waves her hand dismissively. “Later. Now, will someone please explain to me what is going on here.” That someone must be me, for she glares daggers at me.

  She’s Sorina’s cousin alright. Through and through.

  I rub my eyes. This is going to be a long day.

  …

  I sit at the head of a coffee table hastily placed behind the pyre. While Saegor and his lot try reviving my old nemesis, I am forced to explain my situation to both Sorina and Pamela, who haven’t stopped staring at one another for the past five minutes.

  Sitting between them, I can finally exhibit their resemblance. Both have blonde hair, green eyes, and white skin. Yet, Sorina’s eyes are lighter, as is her hair, which hangs loosely around her shoulders. She wears Sorayvladian war robes of green and blue—the very same robes which she wore when trying to assisinate me. By contrast, Pamela’s hair is curled tightly into a bun and she wears the drab grays and blacks of Catolica.

  They haven’t said a word to each other yet.

  I clear my throat.

  Neither looks to me.

  “Look,” I begin. “Why don’t I start by—”

  “It’s been a while, cousin,” Pamela cuts me off. “I thought you were dead. We all did.”

  Sorina shrugs. “In a way, I was. I thought you were seventeenth in line for the throne.”

  “In a way, I was,” Pamela sneers. “You should address me with some measure of reverence, Sorina. What, now that I rank above you—”

  “I have no allegiances to Catolica anymore. As such, I have no need to address you as anything other than Pamela, Pamela.”

  Pamela chortles. “Snide as ever. You still look down on me. Unbelievable.”

  “I've never looked down on you, cousin. I only tell you the truth, because no one else seems to be willing to.” Sorina smiles a devil’s smirk. “I think my advice has stuck though. In a weird way, I’m almost proud of you.”

  Pamela leans over. “Don’t give me that dog shit!” Hearing the queen curse startles me for a moment. I clamp my mouth shut. “None of what I accomplished was because of you, bitch—”

  “See, there’s your problem. With me you lose your composure—”

  “Don’t interrupt your queen.”

  “You’re not my queen. I’m of the free villages now. Mayor of Takemeadow.”

  Evidently, telling her this is a mistake, for Pamela gapes at Sorina for a moment before laughing: “You? High and mighty Sorina, running a small time shithole like the meadows? You, who couldn’t even walk the gardens without some servant fanning your every step?”

  Sorina remains composed. “Things changed in Sorayvlad.”

  “Evidently so. Oh how far you’ve fallen—I mean really, the ‘free villages?’ What a load of shit.”

  “What’s so bad about us? We have no venomous allegiances to tear our people apart. It's better than whatever governance infects Catolica. But I’m sure you’re well versed with all the… ‘colorful’ politicking that occurs in the fiefs right? I’m sure that’s why this fortress is so undermanned and you’re so lacking in reinforcements.”

  Even though I’m not supposed to be on anyone’s side, hearing Sorina so easily pick apart Pamela’s situation does bring a proud smirk to my face.

  Pamela notices that and shifts topic. “You know, the happiest day of my life was when I heard that you were getting whored off to Sorayvlad. They told me initially it would be me. And I knew you deserved that fate more than me.”

  “What—” I begin before pausing, trying to gather myself. The sheer amount of hate that emanates that this table eclipses mine for once, surprisingly. It’s nauseating.

  I feel like a child sitting at the adult’s table.

  “Oh yeah, I nearly forgot about that day: what was it you said to me? ‘I hope your husband treats you well!’ That truly was the first time I’ve ever seen you smile,” Sorina comments.

  “And how was your husband? Did he take you on your first night? Parade you around like an exotic trophy?”

  Now Sorina seethes. “Do not talk about my husband.”

  There’s an edge to her voice that gives Pamela pause.

  But, unwisely, she continues digging her grave: “Oh, so he did make you his slut —”

  “My husband was ten times the person you or any other Catolican could ever dream of being. Don’t disparage his good name.”

  “Ten times the man, yet he couldn’t even get the damn shogunate.”

  “You bitch.”

  “There she is,” Pamela laughs, before licking her lips. Like a predator salivating at the sight of its prey. “There’s the Sorina I knew—”

  SMACK!

  Sorina delivers a stinging slap across the Queen’s face.

  Panic surges. The surrounding soldiers immediately look at us, angry, but Pamela thankfully holds up a hand and rubs her reddened cheek.

  “You truly have become a barbarian. I’m ashamed to be related to this…Thing you’ve degenerated into. No sense of propriety or shame.”

  I put my head in my hands. Why am I even sitting here?

  “Shame? You want to talk to me about shame?” Sorina asks. Then, for once in this conversation she turns to me. “You’re trying to take advantage of my dog.” She says it so possessively that it frightens me.

  “Your dog? Your dog? Raiten is a free man. Isn’t that right Raiten?” Pamela says, looking at me. Despite saying those words, she tugs my sleeve, as if that is supposed to send some secret message to me.

  “Uh—”

  “Raiten is my friend. And I won’t let my friends be coerced by people like you.” Sorina snatches my other wrist, clinging onto it so tightly I think it might just pop off. I wince.

  “That’s pure irony coming from you,” Pamela spouts. “What is he? Your toy? Your pet? He’s a human being, he can do whatever he wants. I thought that's the philosophy that you and your free villages ascribe to.” She tugs my sleeve more, kicks my leg as well.

  I am getting sick of this. “Do I have a say in any of this—”

  “No!” both of them yell simultaneously.

  I sigh.

  If there’s a God up there, I’m sure He’s laughing at me.